


The Rules of Vampirism

by RunAwayToo



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Michael fucks up, One Shot, Vampire Michael, but Luke's only barely mentioned, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:59:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunAwayToo/pseuds/RunAwayToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's a vampire and things with his girlfriend just got a bit rocky... for good reason.</p><p>Based on a tumblr post and a certain tag added to it here (http://malibamis.tumblr.com/post/97515154414/)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rules of Vampirism

Michael couldn’t do this anymore.

This was not some Twilight-sparkly-vampire, Italian-connoisseur, chop-my-head-off-to-kill-me bullshit. This was his life, his unbeating-hearted life. 

And this was his insanely-human girlfriend, blood pumping just her daylight-soaked skin as she wore it red pushing different piercings through their holes.

“Can we talk about this again before-“

“No,” she responded around the tongue which she had already slipped out her mouth, reaching in just seconds later to gently uncurl the titanium ball that rested just on top of it. Quickly, even as she pulled the other bar out from below her tongue, she thread in the new bar, silver glaring alongside a bead of blood which rose during the quick change. Rather than allowing him to help her with the current situation, she closed it out of his site before sticking her tongue at him quickly, joking though slightly tinged with the malice that had them where they were now.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry, babe? I’ll do anythi-“

“How many people do you have to tell you’re sorry, Michael? Four, five? Don’t forget all their fucking family members,” she screamed at him, throwing a spare silver bead he nearly managed to dodge, a red sear tearing just above his elbow.

“OW-“

“Don’t you ‘OW’ me, Michael Gordon Clifford. You told me you wouldn’t do this anymore. You told me you could go without it.”

She just kept screaming. And Michael took it.

He did fuck up. He had royally screwed this one up. No matter how many times he had promised he was done with it, gotten away with it without her even noticing or only imposed the cruel fate onto criminals… He just… Couldn’t stop.

Okay, honestly, she could be a little more understanding. For the both of them, blood was life. Granted, it was in a bit different way… but still. What was one old lady, one he could sense grew nearer and nearer to her end each second he left her, to the world? 

Her fingers appeared in front of his eyes, snapping to bring him from his practiced reverie. 

“You aren’t even listening to me right now, Michael? Are you kidding?”

And there she was again, face furious, hidden for a second as she turned around ever to slightly to reach for the silver bangles her grandmother had left her. Another old lady stuck against time. Hers was not an end Michael had played a hand in. 

They both knew one of the quickest ways to calm any raging mood she found herself in, whether it be of fury or fear, was for Michael to grab her wrists loosely in his hands. More often than not he would kiss each slowly, her breath calming and tension loosening even before he had even finished the second. If he had any hope of doing it again, he would have to give up the same gesture tonight, lest he explain to a hospital his melted lips and cold pulse… and a variety of other sketchy symptoms the undead inherited upon their “transformation.”

But suddenly she was calming, a small smile appearing on her face scarily-quickly. 

“You know what?” Obviously Michael was too freaked out by her shift of mood to be able to think was she was thinking, which he could sometimes do on a good day. “I’m going to make dinner. We’re going to talk this over dinner. Dinner will fix this, yeah? Yeah.”

Without more notice, she popped right out of their shared closet, mostly filled with her own clothing. Just as he exited, she was popping her head back into the bedroom she had breezed through. 

“I just have to get something from Luke and Moira next door, okay?”

“Um… Sure, sweetie.” Was there any other gesture fit for reaction to this moment than a swift scratching of his head?

She was gone in seconds again, presumably striding across the living room in seconds as he heard the door slam behind her.

-

After about fifteen minutes, through which Michael had sat alone on the couch thoroughly confused by what had just gone down, a loud pounding interrupted the general silence of the apartment. 

“It’s me, Michael! I forgot my key,” she shouted through the door. 

He responded with a quick, “one sec,” before quickly opening the door. Before it had even opened wide enough for her, however, he was closing it again, eyes burning and skin itching. 

“Michael, open up!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bringing that in here?” Michael was fuming, dying and fuming.

“Stop overreacting, babe,” she spoke through the door, her goddamn smirk shining through her voice.

“Take that back to Luke’s now, I can’t believe you, stooping this low.”

“Okay, okay, Michael. Calm down.”

Sure.

-

She let herself in just fine the second time around, bringing now reek of garlic as Michael gather their coats with his own idea of how to spend the night.

Without asking questions, though her eyes spoke legions, she allowed him to help her into the coat he held out. No questions did not exclude whining, however. “I just had great plans to bond over Italian tonight, Michael, and you had to ruin it with your ‘rules of vampirism.’”

The rules of vampirism. Something she had taken to calling his every screw up, big or small, though the current one was, admittedly, the former. 

The rules of vampirism. Always with the sarcastic addition of air quotes.

“How about funnel cakes, babe? Sweet, greasy goodness and we can follow it up with cotton candy, popcorn, and candy apples, yeah?”

Try best as she could, she could not hide the excited glimmer in her eye.

“Michael Clifford, are you taking me to the fair?”

“I knew you wanted to go, babe. You’ve been dropping hints since it hit town,” he said sweetly, leaning to kiss her on the cheek as she finished buttoning her coat.

Just as he neared her, however, she was pulling out of his reach, snatching the car keys from table beside the doors.

“Hope they have a hall of mirrors at this one, it’s gonna be a really good night, right?”

Michael couldn’t do this anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> visit my [5SOS tumblr](spaghettihemmi.tumblr.com) if you please but know I also have a love for man-bun harry styles


End file.
